


Youth Is A Form Of Chemical Madness

by BladedFeather



Series: Fatalism [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I Haven't Read the Comics, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum, basically just shameless cute, except
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladedFeather/pseuds/BladedFeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Youth Is A Form Of Chemical Madness

**Author's Note:**

> Ah so I've been sitting on this story for....well since I first saw The Winter Soldier. Due to having not read any of the comics and my inability to write, I had previously decided to never let this see the light of day, but my best friend is my cheerleader, and insisted. I am without a beta so all of the numerous mistakes are mine. Title is a F. Scott Fitzgerald quote because I'm original. I hope you enjoy!

> "Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol’ days, When our momma sang us to sleep"

One of the earliest things that Steve Rogers can remember is the little red star on his left wrist. When he had first spotted it, he had been eight, and terrified. Steve was notoriously sickly as a child, so the little red star, no bigger than a pea, had immediately registered as a sign that he was sick again. So Steve had ran all the way home from the church schoolyard, and only realized that it wasn't a good idea when he felt his lungs go tight. The asthma attack struck quickly and without any further warning. Steve crashed to his knees, skinny legs scraping against the pavement, his vision swimming as he struggled for air. His back found the brick wall as he tried to control his breathing and make his lungs work right, staring up at the little building where his mother was waiting inside and hoping she would come out. Instead, a door to his right swung open, and out tumbled a tangle of limbs that Steve managed to catch with the corner of his eye. Closing them Steve tried to make the burn go away, and was shocked when he heard a voice next to his head.

"You okay?" Steve's eyes snapped open to stare into big grey ones, a few inches in front of him. The boy was about his age, but, as usual, much taller than he was and was bending with his hands on his knees to stare at Steve with a concerned little furrow to his eyebrows. Steve's lungs still didn't feel like they wanted to work properly and he tried to get out words, but only a slight wheeze made it out. The boy's face cleared immediately in a toothy grin. "I know what's wrong! My Uncle Jimmy used to do that too!" Steve was just staring up at the strange boy, wondering why he was still standing there. The boy leaned down and took one of Steve's hands, holding it to the pulse point on his wrist. Steve was surprised that he actually _had_ known what to do, and tried to breathe in rhythm with the steady thumping of the boy's steady heartbeats. It worked and soon enough he was able to breathe easy as he ever could, which was never really all that easy.

As soon as Steve nodded and waved off the other boys hand, he straightened and stuck out a hand to help Steve up,"James Buchanan Barnes," He introduced proudly as Steve shakily got to his feet, and grinned that toothy smile at him again. "You can call me Bucky."

 

 

^

 

Bucky had walked him the short distance to his house, and waved off his thanks when Steve had given it with his name. "Why wouldn't I?," the other boy had said with a shrug and then turned a crooked smile on him that made his eyes light up, "'sides, we match!" Steve quirked an eyebrow, but didn't get a chance to ask before Bucky was rolling up his sleeve on his left forearm and sticking it in front of his face proudly. Steve immediately felt guilty, looking at the pea shaped star on Bucky's arm and then to the matching one on his own wrist, same place and all.

"What is it?" He asked tentatively, not quite sure if the other boy's enthusiasm meant that he knew; and that it wasn't a sign Steve was sick and had given it to this nice boy. Bucky dashed his hopes with a carefree shrug,

"I dunno, I'm gonna ask my Ma, she's real smart." Steve smiled at the way Bucky bragged about his Mama, and it made him remember his reason for running home in the first place. Bucky looked a little sullen as Steve started walking away, explaining that his Mama would want to know what had kept him.

"Do you want to play with me an' my sister sometime?" Steve was surprised at the offer, and felt himself nodding enthusiastically as Bucky grinned at him one more time before running off back towards his building.

 

^

 

Sarah Rogers took one look at her boy and immediately dropped the uniform she was mending in favor of fussing over him. "What happened this time mo leanbh?" Steve just sighed and went to sit on the bed, his shoulders slumping. Ms. Rogers crossed the room cautiously, wondering what had made her son look so defeated.

"Mama I think I'm sick again." The fear that flashed in Sarah's eyes was invisible to her son, but clear in her own heart. Immediately, she began checking his forehead for fever, listening to his breathing and checking his pulse. When none of this gave any indication that she should worry, she looked up at Steve, blond hair falling in his eyes as he bowed his head, as if sorry he couldn't be stronger, sorry he was sick.

"You feel fine to me, what's wrong?" Steve looked at her with wide and sorrowful eyes, holding out his wrist as if it burned him. Sarah took her sons delicate wrist in her calloused hands and felt her heart reach her throat.

"Mama? What's wrong? Is it bad? Am-" Sarah shushed him, and carefully untied the ribbon on her arm. Lots of people wore them these days. It fell away to reveal a crescent moon on her left wrist. Steve hadn't noticed it much before, it was real faint, especially compared to the star. Sarah shifted and took her sons hands in hers.

"You're not getting sick baby. Everyone gets them at some point, some people later than others. It's just God's way of helping us find our way back to the other part of our soul." Steve's eyes were saucers staring up at his mother, and Sarah smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. It was hard to watch her son grow up so quick. Steve looked calmer now that he wasn't getting sick, but tugged on his mothers sleeve anxiously.

"But what about Bucky?" Sarah's head tilted in confusion until she remembered the nice little family and their little boy that had moved in across the alleyway. Steve cradled his arm to his chest and peeked at the little star there. "He has it too." Steve hunched in on himself, as if he was worried he had done something wrong. Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her stomach turn acidic, knowing the world would show no kindness to her little boy for the sole reason that the person sharing his star was a boy. Sarah couldn't bring herself to explain, and instead told him the same thing that every parent told their child, kissing his fingers.

"That just means he's going to be your best friend."

 

^

 

Steve actually did get to play with Bucky and his sister, and it seemed that Bucky had gotten the same sort of answer from his Mama, so they ignored it, young minds more interested in the latest adventure.

They grew up together, playing in the streets, causing trouble all around Brooklyn, Bucky coming to Steve's rescue when he tried to stand up to bullies, even though they were bigger than him, refusing to back down.

By the time they were old enough to truly figure out what the stars on their arms meant, it was much too late. Both teenagers casting confused and longing glances at their best friend in the world. When each of their Mamas had sat them down and explained what it _really_ meant, the next time they saw one another was no different than any time before. Although in their teens, they had not yet witnessed the cruelty directed to people like them, and met with smiles that could power a city. Although they both agreed they didn't want to get married just yet, because that's what adults did, and adults were boring.

They stayed by one anothers' side, the simple understanding of what it meant soon blossoming into awkward kisses one day when Steve's mom went to get groceries, and then holding hands when they thought no one was watching.

It was into their second year of High School when Steve and Bucky realized why their Mamas had looked so sad when they explained. Steve was gathering up his books off the ground, not understanding why that guy had slapped them out of his hands, muttering "Defect" as he walked away. Steve was used to getting picked on, but didn't understand what they meant.

Bucky found him later, huddled on the ground. The blood ran from the cuts on his face to stain the pavement. It was clear that Steve hadn't stayed down when he should've.

"Stevie, hey, aw fuck." Bucky felt sick, acid in the back of his throat. Steve was unconscious, breathing shallow and weak. Bucky felt his eyes burn as he kneeled beside him putting Steve's head in his lap gingerly. The anger burned hot inside of Bucky and he wanted to tear apart everyone who had hurt Steve. Steve who rescued kittens and gave away all of his sweets. Who, in Bucky's opinion, didn't deserve an ounce of pain for the rest of his life.

 

^

 

Ms. Rogers was no stranger to Bucky being at their house, and unlike Bucky's father, had no qualms about him and her son's relationship (that they hadn't mentioned to her yet, but she knew.) Although the sight of Bucky shouldering through the door with Steve in his arms chilled her bones. Jumping up she helped get Steve onto the bed, and before she could reach for the first aid kit Bucky beat her too it, not seeming to notice the way he was running his thumbs over Steve's cheeks as he dabbed the cuts and bandaged the deeper scrapes on his arms. Sarah stood back and watched with her heart clenching for many different reasons. Even when she couldn't be there, someone would look after her baby. Bucky finished his ministrations and turned to her with tears glistening in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry ma'am, I shoulda been there and I shoulda taken better care of him, I'll look after him better I'm sorr-" Bucky went still when Sarah wrapped her arms around him, and she wasn't surprised; Bucky's household often frowned on 'coddling the boy' and ever since they'd found out who shared Bucky's heart they'd treated him like a stranger, everyone except his younger sister. Sarah tightened her arms when Bucky began to cry softly. It seemed like it had been a long time since he'd let himself be held and cry. Sarah rubbed his back and felt a few tears of her own spill down her cheeks. She pulled back and ran her thumb under his eyes, smile watery.

"You ain't got a thing to be sorry for, James Barnes. You take care of my Stevie for me the best of anyone. He'd be lost without you." Sarah watched as her words made him choke up again and then he looked up at her, looking just like the little boy she'd first met who'd kissed her hand, and then said with tears running down his face,

"I think I love him ma'am." Sarah pulled him back in, practically crushing him.

"I know you'll treat him right." She said fiercely and when they let go, Bucky looked like he couldn't believe she didn't care for a moment, before nodding seriously. He fidgeted around for a minute or so, before Sarah realized he didn't know if he could stay. Laughing and grabbing her handkerchief she waved him off.

"Go on, he's going to want to see you when he wakes up." Bucky kissed her cheek and darted into the other room; settling on the floor by the bed and taking Steve's hand.

 

^

 

The rest of their High School careers were fraught with them both carefully watching how they acted, lest anyone else decide to teach them a 'lesson'. Steve was fed up with the whole idea, and was furious at the injustice, but had let it go when Bucky had begged him quietly one night. Wrapped up in blankets and huddling against the cold in Steve's room they had whispered all night, but they hadn't meant to stumble on the argument.

"It just ain't right Buck. There's nothing wrong with it, I don't care what anyone else says." He whispered harshly and Bucky sighed from somewhere deep inside himself.

"I know that Stevie, I know. But other people ain't gonna magically get a heart and sense like you." Steve huffed and his brow furrowed in anger.

"That don't mean we gotta hide it." Bucky reached forward slowly, and took one Steve's much smaller hands in both of his.

"Steve. They could put us in _jail_. It's _illegal_." After they had both been taunted with being 'defects' or mistakes of Gods plan, Bucky had asked around and he hadn't known before, but it was an honest to God law and they could be dragged away for it. Steve went still and cold in front of him, and Bucky bit the inside of his cheek.

"That...- That isn't right. That's not fair! How can they do that?" Steve was whisper yelling. but Bucky still put a finger to his lips, as to not wake his Ma in the other room. Carefully Bucky leaned forward and when Steve didn't protest pressed their mouths together gently. The tension bled out of Steve and when they broke apart Steve put his head on Bucky's chest, his skinny arms tucked between them.

"It's just not fair Buck." Wrapping his arms around Steve, Bucky kissed the top of his head.

"I know Stevie. I know."

 

^

 

On the day Sarah Rogers was laid to rest, it did not rain. The sky did not open up and pour down upon those gathered as they watched the casket be lowered. The gathering was small, although there were a great many letters from people sending their condolences about the woman who had helped so many people as a nurse. In the end it was her kindness that led to her death, refusing to leave her patients she came home with a cough that didn't end. Steve wonders why he didn't catch it too, and if it was God's cruel way of making sure he suffered. The one time he isn't sick and his mother dies.

In person there are a few women who had worked with his mother, and their husbands if they had them. Other than that it's just Steve, staring unseeingly as the sun glanced off the wood of the coffin. Bucky is beside him, and they're holding hands, not caring about the onlookers, and hoping they won't say anything to two boys who are obviously grieving. The walk home is a sightless blur of city to Steve, the front door to his tiny apartment appearing in front of his face almost a surprise. Bucky hasn't said a word and Steve stares at his door, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

"At least it was nice." It's feeble and Steve knows that _Bucky_ knows that as soon as Steve finds his key and gets inside he's not going to hold it together anymore. Bucky licks his lips and stares at his shoes.

"You don't have to do it alone Steve. I've been thinking and.....there's this nice little place down by the docks..." Bucky swallows. Steve had been adamant that he could do it by himself, that he would be okay. Bucky just wants to look after him.

"Buck, you ain't gotta do that, you know no one will hire me." Steve sighs, leaning back against the door, it creaks in warning. Bucky is doing his 'Steve, you're being dumb but I'm not actually going to tell you you're being dumb' face.

"You know that doesn't matter. 'Sides, I've seen you drawing, and I bet you could sell that stuff for a pretty penny." Bucky can see Steve wavering, and puts a hand on his shoulder, innocent to the passing neighbors that can't see his fingers stroking the back of Steve's neck, "You and me, til the end of the line, remember?"

Of course, Steve gives in, and soon enough they're crammed into a tiny apartment within walking distance of the docks. They're happy.

 

^

 

Steve's curled into the side of their ratty and threadbare couch, sketchpad and one of his precious few pencils dancing across the page quickly. What he should be doing is finishing the commission for the newspaper, which they would hopefully take and pay him a little for. Instead he can't help but trace Bucky's lines. Working at the docks had filled Bucky out considerably, although they lived on a meager diet, Bucky's frame was taunt with muscles. Steve had a sketchbook or two filled with Bucky, and it was like keeping a timeline; watching how the years changed his friend, and the man he loved. He hadn't said it out loud yet, neither of them had, but he knew he did. Stars on their arms or not, Steve loved Bucky like fish loved water. Bucky helped him breathe, figuratively and literally. There wasn't really a doubt in his mind that he would be utterly lost without the man asleep in front of him. So Steve draws, filling in each detail with enough love so that if this winter claims him, Bucky will know.

 

^

 

They keep up appearances, Steve goes out with a few girls, the very few who will actually say yes to him, goes out and plays the normal young man waiting to meet his other half. In this day and age it's frowned upon heavily not to be with the person God made just for you (unless you happened to be a 'mistake' in their case), so no one thinks a thing when the girls never last long. Sometimes finding the other person takes a long long time. It works out nice for them, for now at least.

Bucky takes out girls, and they all wilt against his charm and broad shoulders. Steve sits in the booths when his date inevitably abandons him and wishes he could dance with Bucky like whatever girl is on his arm.

Whenever they get home, Bucky is frantic in his need to make sure Steve knows that none of them matter, kisses and bites and marks. Steve knows, but it still makes him envious. It's better though, when Bucky cottons on and they end up dancing around the kitchen like idiots, slipping in their socks.

Next time they go dancing Steve watches from the sidelines and really sees how brittle Bucky's smile is. How stiffly he moves and for once he doesn't envy the girl Bucky's holding carefully away from himself. Because she'll never get to watch as Bucky wakes up, blinking open his blue-grey eyes one at a time before groaning and rolling back over. Never know what it feels like to watch him come undone. Steve doesn't envy her, because he has Bucky.

 

^

 

Bucky talks about Steve all the time, changing his name so that no one can tell he's really talking about his room mate. Waxes poetic about his eyes and smile, and when the boys get jealous he just grins, goes homes and walks into the door to see big blue eyes and a crooked smile.

The tendency that Steve possessed to try and defend someone or something even though he looked like a stiff breeze could bring him down, did not fade with age. This more often than not ended with Steve sitting on the counter, Bucky bandaging cuts and scrapes, while lecturing him endlessly.

None of that sinks in though, and Bucky knows it won't stop him, Steve's heart is just too big, and he's just too much of a punk.

 

^

 

Bucky's worst fear is realized one cold day in November. Work is slower at the docks during the winter, but there's always a shipment of something going somewhere. The last few months had been hard on everyone, especially two boys in Brooklyn trying to survive the day so they could curl up together at night. When his shift ends, the sweat that had managed to appear despite the chill slowly cooling against his skin, Bucky heads home. All of his muscles protesting as he walked, Bucky wanted nothing more than to get home, out of the chilling wind, and convince Steve to take an early night. The idea brings a smile to his face, but it slips away quickly as he sees an unusually large amount of people gathered at the side of a shabby restaurant. Bucky is tired enough that he'd ignore it, if not for the frantic shout of,

"Someone help!" Bucky's running over before he even realizes he's doing it, shouldering through the crowd to see what's wrong, the smell of blood is sharp. Bucky feels like the whole world comes to a stop when he sees Steve on the ground, red replacing the white of his shirt almost entirely. Shoving through the remainder of people in front of him Bucky drops beside Steve.

"Steve! Can you hear me?" Bucky has Steve's face in his hands, and it takes an alarming amount of time for the blond's eyes to sluggishly come open and focus on him. Steve smiles weakly and something inside Bucky twists like a knife.

"Hi...Buck." The words are slurred together and Bucky swallows against the lump in his throat, feeling the warmth of blood between his fingers as he presses down on the wound.

"You gotta stay awake for me, Stevie. Can you stay awake for me?" Bucky coaxes gently and presses harder when Steve's eyes flutter closed.

"I can do that Buck...-I had to stop....he was gonna hurt 'er." Distantly he can hear one of the onlookers shouting for help as he rips off the sleeve of his shirt, using it as a makeshift compress. Steve's eyes flutter open again, "Did she get away?" Bucky nods quickly and the relief in Steve's eyes almost makes things better, until he sighs deeply, and his eyes close.

 

^

 

The hospital room was the same as all hospital rooms. Steve hates this one as much as the others. Waking up comes in stages of pain and grogginess, though no matter what state he's in when he surfaces, Bucky's always there.

Going home is better than Steve ever imagined it could be during the long hours he stared at the dingy hospital ceiling. The only thing that hinders the happiness he feels at finally seeing his own bed is the complete and utter silence Bucky had been in since the release forms. Collapsing on the bed Steve curls up, glancing up cautiously at his best friend. Bucky is standing in the middle of their tiny apartment, there isn't a trace of anger in his posture, and that's what worried Steve. Bucky was not the type for explosive anger, wouldn't get in someones face during a fight. Steve expects to be given a lecture, like all the times before, but never expects it when he see tears silently slipping down Bucky's face.

Just like that Steve's out of the bed and rushing to wrap his arms around Bucky's waist, holding tight when his shoulders started to shake. Eventually they slid to the ground, Steve ending up cradled to Bucky's chest.

"You gotta be more careful. I may not always be around Stevie, you gotta be more careful, _please_." Bucky's voice was hoarse, and Steve swallowed hard against the guilt for worrying him enough that he'd _cried_. Before Steve could reply Bucky continued, burying his face in Steve's hair. "I know you were doing the right thing, but for my sake, _stay alive_. I can't lose you." Bucky whispered the end of his sentence, his arms tightening reflexively. Steve just nodded, and held on with all he had.

They both knew war was looming, and if it happened, Bucky _wouldn't_ be around.

 

^

 

On December 7, 1941 at 21 and 22 years old respectively, Steve and Bucky were lounging on their tiny bed. They were wrapped up, not a care in the world, except being quiet and worry over if they would make rent next month. Their tiny radio that Bucky had scavenged from the trash was playing music softly, though it was mostly static. The pair were trading lazy and lingering kisses, smiles sappy. Without much warning, the peaceful morning was ripped into tatters as the music vanished, replaced by a grim reporter. There had been an attack on American soil. They both react with fury at the loss of life. Bucky would've been in the line to enlist the moment he heard the news, but he can't bring himself to do that to Steve.

The next few months are nothing but endless waiting. America enters the war, just like they knew would happen, and it's just anxious waiting until the inevitable. Things are tense all over, especially in their tiny apartment, an old argument running itself ragged.

The day Bucky gets drafted, the peaceful if horrible waiting shatters. Bucky walks through the door, griping the piece of paper tightly, jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. Steve looks up from his sketch pad, catches sight of Bucky, and feels his heart sink into his shoes. They've got a week until Bucky goes to basic, and all of those months of bickering about Steve trying to enlist begin looking like wasted time.

The morning Bucky's set to ship off to Georgia, for three weeks, Steve doesn't want to let him go. The morning light is the worst thing he's ever seen, right next to the fiercely determined yet mildly frightened look on Bucky's face.

Bucky puts on his crisp new uniform, grabs Steve by the front of the shirt and kisses him hard.

"You gonna be here when I get back punk?" He asks sternly and Steve smiles, ruthlessly suppressing his urge to cry.

"Go on, hurry before you're late, jerk!" Bucky mock salutes and walks out. The door closing sounds like the end of something.

 

^

 

Of course, on the way to meet Bucky after he returns from basic, Steve runs into a guy who thinks it's okay to harass women. So as the powers that be dictate, Bucky is the one who appears from out of nowhere, clocking the guy in the jaw, and stepping in front of Steve as he did. The guy staggers and for a minute it looks like he's gonna fight back but when he steadies himself it appears to dawn on him that Bucky's in uniform. The guy bolts. Steve straightens his tie and braces himself for Bucky's disapproving look, but it never comes.

"I had 'em on the ropes." Steve mutters and squeaks a little at the pinch to his side. Bucky has a strange look on his face, and Steve follows as quickly as his lungs will permit as he's lead through the streets.

When they get back to their apartment, Steve doesn't get a word out of his mouth before he's roughly shoved against the door. There's only a quiet whimper as Bucky's hands clamp down on his hips, and his mouth licking teasing circles at his collar bones. From there it's not long until Steve's rutting helplessly, and starts in surprise when he's picked up. Bucky's murmuring endearments that blend together into his ear, and Steve groans and just clamps his legs around his best guy's waist and tries to keep it together.

Later, they're tangled together under the blanket, face to face like when they were kids. Bucky has one of his hands, and is stroking one of his fingers across Steve's knuckles.

"I'm being deployed." Steve knew it was coming, he knew it and it still knocks the wind out of him. Steve keeps it to himself, but he's going to try and enlist in every single office until they let him in. He's not going to sit this out while good people die for his country. Especially if Bucky's over there. It seems that Bucky knows exactly what he's thinking. "I know you wanna enlist. I know trust me. Christ I know I'm a bad man for saying this Stevie. But I'd rather it be anyone else but you out there." Steve is indignant.

"Buck you know that ain't fair. I can do my part as well as anyone else. What do you-" Bucky cuts him off,

"You don't think I know that? Christ Rogers, I thought you were smarter than that. I know you can, I just don't want you out there. Do you know how much better it's going to make me feel that you're _here_? Not on some god forsaken battlefield?" Bucky gripped his hand tighter and Steve tried to swallow his angry protests.

"How do you think I feel Buck? _You're_ going to be out there." The silence that falls is heavy, and Steve scoots forward, tucking himself under Bucky's chin. "When?" Steve squeezes his eyes shut when Bucky hesitates.

"Tomorrow."

 

^

 

The morning comes despite both of their prayers and they stay curled up as long as they can. Before long though, the day must start. They go to all of their favorite places. Occasionally one of them will smile at the other and lean forward unconsciously, and whatever everyone else sees they don't think is right for two friends. They only flinch a little at the hate and harsh words thrown their way. The only reason they're risking it in the first place is because there's a war on, and everyone has bigger problems.

When the sun sinks behind the hills, Steve feels like his heart follows it to it's grave. There's only a few hours before Bucky's supposed to report to his unit, so that early the next morning they can ship out immediately. Steve's protests are drowned out by Bucky's delighted laughter,

"Come _on_ Steve! We're going to the future!" Bucky tugs him through the crowd, into the front where Steve can see without being on his tip toes. They watch in fascination at all of the gadgets and dream of the future. "See? This is why it's better they won't let you enlist. They need brains like yours to make this real, Steve." Bucky's leaning on the railing, staring at all of the lights in wonder.

The anger boils up quickly, and Steve stomps away, not thinking about how Bucky has to leave soon. It's no time at all before Bucky tracks him down, and by then there are angry tears on Steve's face, and he cuts into the space beside the recruitment office.

" _I should be out there Bucky._ I fucking _know_ I can make a difference." He's like a broken record, but it's the only thing he can say. Can't muster up the will to explain how he wants nothing more than to help his country. How he wants to protect people and it kills him to not be able to. How deep down, he's selfish and doesn't want to be left behind; waiting for the news that Bucky was even still alive. Doesn't want to be left alone. Steve lets Bucky's arms wrap around his waist. Could never say no to him.

"You know, I read a book about stars once." Steve turns in his arms and looks at him skeptically, watching as Bucky took his wrist gently, pulling up their sleeves and matching the stars there. "Well, our star just so happens to be a red one, like the one we see every morning. So it don't matter where you are Steve, because as long as the sun is still in the sky I'm with you, just like you're with me." Bucky swallowed and pink dusted his cheeks, his usual swagger stripped away. Steve wrapped his arms around his neck tightly.

"Don't win the war until I get there." Steve ordered, laughing a little as Bucky did. Letting go Steve stepped back, it would be time for him to go soon, and there was no use walking him there, it would only make things worse.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back, punk." Bucky didn't let him argue, just braced him against the wall for a sad and tear stained kiss.

Bucky left to face the horrors of war.

Steve didn't hesitate stepping into the enlistment office, determined to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. If you would like to see more from this little universe of mine, please let me know. Thank you.


End file.
